Three Rings! (worth it)

I’m laughing a deep belly chuckle right now at my spanish lessons and deciding to pause and drum up an update. My first laugh was a few disks ago when they were insisting on telling me how to say “I don’t speak english” and the one that has me most recently entertained to the point of almost blowing soda out my nose “I’m going to pay.” You can guess how fast I made a dismissive gesture to not learn that one. I half thought it was a joke. I don’t say that in english – (hablo engles!) let alone another tongue. Not to imply I won’t treat someone, ahem… when I can, but I just don’t flop my wallet on the table and offer dinero! Plus I don’t carry a wallet, wallets are for organized folks who have shit to put in it.

So! I went to the unemployment meeting, interview, random whatever they called it in the letter. All I saw was – and highlighted no less – if you don’t show up, no money. Punctuality is my name! I had all my papers in order, printouts of job searches…. I all but needed a briefcase for all the shit I was hauling inside. Let’s not forget that I am still hiding a back injury. Any trepidation melted when I walked in and saw the crowd I was up against.

I have never felt so normal in comparison to the circus of watching that room and it’s almost human inhabitants. Just a normal room with a lot of chairs and the background noise of phones and general work. Let's think about them in detail.

One man had on no pants. He was not naked, but I know boxer shorts when I see them regardless if they are decorated with photos of Homer Simpson. That man was one false move from flopping his junk onto the seat next to him, conveniently providing a nice place to lean onto. Did I consider getting my camera to document what was just beginning? You tell me. I did not get the camera. I sat there, the only person not chewing bubble gum loudly, with my hair combed and nicely dressed, legs crossed and the best posture I could manage.

After a long internal monologue about the man with no pants I looked around some more and a giggle hit me that I could not control. How on this planet was I there with those people, then going into laughter that confirmed to everyone else I might BE one of those people.

Behind me was a woman, looking rather homeless with all her wares in plastic bags around her feet, sleeping. Upright, but sleeping. I think she came in to get out of the heat and I was eyeballing to see if there was an empty cart outside waiting for her to return. At least she was keeping to herself, because the next man that came in had no intention of such.

He walked in, stout of stature wearing some shirt that indicated he might have worked for that construction company about 20 years ago as the shirt really just wanted to die. It was faded, stretched to it’s limits, and worn by this man who walked with a cocky swagger. Again, a giggle rose in my throat prepared to unleash. Not just because of his shirt but because before he opened his mouth both the male receptionist and I knew he felt he was there to be justified about something.

I’d gotten to understand the receptionist during my wait time, he is a simple person and doesn’t care. Easy enough. He also chews gum like the rest of the gnawing waiters. Whatever your problem is, it’s not his. Not to say he was rude, not at all, his responses were simply mechanical and it's not his peragotive to be involved in the issues of other people.

So when faded shirt walked in getting all demanding and pissy about having to sign in, the receptionist – go figure – continued his saga of not caring. He barely looked up from his monitor and asked why the man was there. The giggle rose further up and I was so close I could taste it. I was glad I’d chosen a seat up front to watch all these comings and goings.

Mister slammed his fists onto the reception bar and screamed “For shits and giggles!” One mention of the word giggle and it was all over for me. The receptionist resumed giving a fuck and asked him what he really wanted, still not even so much as a glitch of moving his eyes from his computer screen. I was all but coiled in my chair and almost needed to walk outside and scream that I’d gone to hell. We all know I adore observations, but this was overload… as faded shirt continued to be agitated. He wanted to see…. I don’t remember, probably a Jeff but would not say why. This was a required element. In all my years of guarding the door of various employers, you have to tell me why. The only other option is sending a paper airplane past me and hoping it lands in the right place. That’s just how it works. And I will bite an ankle and be drug to prove I tried to stop the insistent caller. He then declared to the gum chomping receptionist that he was offended to be asked why he was there “Do you know where you work? What the fuck do you think I want? Get Jeff… now!” Oh my. The clerk didn’t seem in a rush to ring Jeff because remember, he doesn’t care and deals with assholes like that all day.

Shirt paced the room with hands on his hips, exploring the conference area and nodding then and again as though he was deciding if it was up to code or if his crack was wearing off. Homeless lady stirred, and half naked man maintained not flashing a penis. I only highlight these few people, trust me in that it was packed solid and busier than the post office at Christmas.

I went in, it was fine, as I knew it would be since my records were impeccable and I was wearing clothes and not verbally assaulting the staff. My case worker answered calls the whole time and I sat, just….sitting. Gave me enough time to spot all her desk wares and I damn near re-arranged her station during all the interruptions. She had a blow fish. Mm-hm! Totally dead crystallized in a state of being pissed, as it was fully in the angry blowfish state. I pointed it out and she was very happy about it, telling me it’s whole story. Her son gave it to her when he was seven because it reminded him of her.

“You remind your son of a prickly fish who blows up?”
Laugh “Yes.”
“Can I hold it?”
“Sure.”

I sat holding (I named it Harold after the angry shirt guy…. We ALL knew his name quickly) on my lap throughout the entire whatever it was and begrudgingly gave it back when I was set loose. I think she was happy to have a pleasant person in her chair and kept me longer than needed. At one point she couldn't find a entry point for one skill and called in people, much to my not knowing. Harold and I were having a discourse and I looked up to find two people literally two inches from my sitting person, peering over me.

"Whoa, Hi team!" I exclaimed. It was magic, they just appeared, and close enough to pick my pockets or tell me which brand of toothpaste I use. They did laugh though. And should have, jesus... give a girl some room!

Really baffles me that anyone would walk into unemployment with an attitude. Not judging, these folks are in the same place I am (except homeless restee, to a degree) but sheesh, be nice maybe instead of wanting to get rid of you fast, they’ll find a good lead. We're all desparate, fake a smile. Just a thought. Cheers my friends.

-DM